Dark Was the Night, Bright Was the Day
by Kashtien James
Summary: Follows the events of 8x09. A moment in time can change everything. How will Teddy react to the news Owen has for her, and who will be there to help her to stand when she discovers that she is carrying her husband's baby? Complete as is.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I haven't written anything here in quite a while, and I would like to apologize to all of you for that. I have, however, been writing a lot… just not fanfiction. Anyway, after the mid-season eight finale, I'm highly inspired. If you haven't seen it, and you don't want spoilers, don't read this, because it's probably going to be full of them. That said, I've always shipped Owen and Teddy together, but gave up on the idea when she married Henry. I adored Henry, which I'm sure anyone who has read my previous fiction knows, but… well… now that what's happened has happened, it appears as though Shonda has opened a door of friendship (or maybe more?) for my lost army couple. To fully understand where I'm going, I suppose you should read on. Enjoy! And… I would love to hear what you think!**

_"Her husband just died in our OR; she'll never forgive any of us." _As Owen Hunt stood in operating room three, skillfully avoiding the gaze of his long-time friend, Richard Webber's words rang repetitively through his subconscious. There was, of course, the part about him not being her friend at a time like this, but needing to be the Chief of Surgery. And the part about him not telling Teddy until the surgery was complete. But the bit of the conversation that stood out most prominently was the fact that the blonde standing before him would never forgive him for what he was doing. She wouldn't forgive any of them, of course, but she would hate him in a different sense – to a different degree. Despite the complications that their friendship had faced over the past year, he was her _friend. _He was supposed to be the one person she could trust to come to her with the truth. And here he was lying through his teeth.

He fakes a smile, releases a nervous laugh. Had Teddy not been in the middle of a surgery, she would have seen right through the act. Instead, she went on in that playful tone. "You're a coward. If you think you are off the hook, you are wrong. And this could ruin the next five, ten years of my life. You do understand that, right?" Owen nodded, the smile still plastered to his face behind his scrub mask. She continued to talk, but he couldn't hear her. His mind was on the all too vivid image of Henry Burton lying dead on Cristina's operating table. There was no way that the surgery could have gone differently. Another surgeon wouldn't have been able to save him. It wasn't Cristina's fault. Henry was a forty-two year old man who had lived through nearly ninety surgeries… and his time had simply come. It was unfortunate, just like any other death was, but it was heartbreaking, because he and Teddy had been so… blissful.

Teddy Altman was a surgeon. She, of all people, knew that even the simplest of procedures could end in fatality. She understood there was always a risk that, when a loved one was brought into an operating room, he or she may not ever come out. Owen knew that she knew this, but the fact that she was a surgeon didn't mean that she wasn't human. She wasn't prepared for her husband to die. When her last words had been _I love you_, she hadn't expected them to actually be her last.

She was still going on about medical school and something about her dead husband when her friend interrupted, "Look, I have to go… uhm… check on my other patient. I'll find you later, alright?" He couldn't stay in that room any longer, watching as she smiled and joked, completely unaware of the fact that the man she was in love with was dead. If Webber thought it was better not to tell her, then he simply couldn't be there. Owen waited for her nod of confirmation before turning to leave.

The trauma surgeon refrained from the action until he was in the locker room, at which point he tore off his scrub cap and let out a slew of curses. His running shoe met with a lower-level locker, denting it considerably when the force of his kick came. How the hell had this happened? Why was it that the world was so goddamn cruel to the best of the human race? Teddy Altman was a good person – she was the type of woman who tried to find something decent about even the worst of people, and who was willing to marry a complete stranger in order to save his life. She had always been an excellent friend to Owen, putting his needs before hers even when it meant tearing herself apart. She flashed that award winning smile at people whom she had never seen in her life, and she truly meant it. Yet it seemed as though some higher power hated her. The life that she led had only brought her heartache and sorrow time and time again. Even Owen himself had encouraged that pattern, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise.

This, though? If it was even the slightest bit possible, the redhead would have taken Henry's place. Not because he was particularly attached to the man, but because his friend was. She would have been able to deal with Owen's death much better than what she would deal with this. Henry would have helped her deal with the situation had their roles been reversed, whereas the best thing that Owen could do was nod his understanding and offer a half-assed hug. In reality, neither of those things did any damn good.

"Dr. Hunt?" He recognized the voice before he saw Lexie Grey round the corner, concern written throughout her features. "Are you okay, Sir?" Why was she calling him Sir? Why was her question so hesitant and her voice so small? He watched her eyes widen at the sight of the damage he had done to the locker before him, and then drag her gaze to meet his own icy blue hues.

"No, Grey, I'm not alright." At first his words were soft as he tried to remain calm and detached, but the emotional strain within him was soon evident. "I'm not alright, because my friend's husband just died. He's dead, and she's in there operating on some woman that doesn't mean anything to any of us. She's talking about how her dead husband wants to go to medical school, and she's calling me a coward for not telling him it's a bad idea. But I can't tell him it's a bad idea; I can't tell him it's a good idea. Because he's dead. Teddy's husband is dead, and when I tell her that, after she waits another thirty minutes of being snowed over, she's going to be broken. She's going to be so completely broken, and the only person who could possibly fix her… is dead."

The young woman looks as though someone just hit her with a ton of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that? The man before her isn't even the one who's lost their spouse, and he's an emotional wreck. She can see that it wouldn't be a far cry to believe that the hospital would be completely disheveled in just a few minutes. It's not her job to try and keep things together, but she's sure as hell going to try. "I can tell her. I'm sure that would be easier," she offers.

It's not even something that Owen will even consider. As much as Teddy is going to hate him, she's going to need someone to break down on when she hears what they've all been keeping from her. He doesn't mind if she uses him as a shoulder to cry on and then slaps him across the face. He'd rather it be him that someone she wasn't comfortable doing both of those things to. "No. It's fine, Grey. Just make sure that nobody goes near the scrub room of OR three when that surgery is over."

The little brunette nodded her head, fearing what would be in store for both of her superiors. Owen watched as she made her exit, realizing for the first time that his hands were clammy. Checking his watch, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Twenty-five minutes until Teddy learned that her entire life had been shattered. Twenty-five minutes until everything that she knew fell apart with a single event. He left the locker room, making his way back to operating room three. Grabbing a chair from an empty patient's room on his way, he set it in front of the scrub room door and took a seat. If he went in again, she would suspect that something was up. He could only manage a convincing smile so many times before she discovered how much of an asshole he was.

Minutes ticked by but felt like hours. Some people passed with questioning glances, wondering why the man was sitting outside of a scrub room. Others passed knowing exactly why he was there. News spread quickly at Seattle Grace Mercy West, and Teddy would probably be the last person to know what was going on. They all expected that it would be him to tell her, because they all thought that they were the closest of friends, so they offered him looks of condolence. Clearly, they had missed out on some of the gossip. Sure, Teddy and Owen were close, but there had been a time when they were much closer. There had been a time when she thought that he would have _given her a call_, and he would have had he not been such a coward. Then he'd brought her here because he missed having a friend, and it was as though everything had gone to hell. Recently, though, with Henry being around, they had been laughing together. It was just like old times, except without the longing glances and everyone around them assuming that they were some sort of secret couple.

April Kepner was the first to come out, a confused look taking over her features when she noticed Owen sitting by the door. "Dr. Hunt… is everythi-"

He didn't give her the chance to finish, "Is Dr. Altman finished?"

The redhead nodded, "She's scrubbing out right now."

Hastily getting to his feet, Owen didn't offer any other sort of explanation before making his way through the door that April had come out of just seconds earlier. Six curious eyes flew up to see who had entered – four which belonged to nurses and two which belonged to the woman he had gone in for. Both nurses dried their hands and made their exit. Teddy's green eyes stayed glued to his. "Why are you here… again?" Now that she could see his full face, and she wasn't preoccupied with an open body, she could tell that something clearly wasn't right.

Three advancing steps forward and he had invaded her personal space, his hands falling on her upper arms. He had told dozens of people that their loved ones were dead, but never someone so close to him. Never had he had to tell the woman who had kept him fighting through a war that her husband was dead. "It wouldn't have mattered who was operating on him… there was nothing that could be done." His words were soft, his voice gentle, his eyes glossier than they should have been.

A single tear spilled over the rim of the blonde's eye as she tried to register what she was being told. "You told me that he was alive, Owen."

He nodded, sympathy and sorrow filling his eyes. "I know. I couldn't… you had a patient in the middle of a surgery, and there was no one tha-"

"You told me that he was _fine _and that his vitals were good!" Her last six words become progressively louder as she took a single step backward, disgust for the man before her becoming apparent. He had _lied _to her. He had led her to believe that her husband was alive and well and wanting to go to med school.

"I'm sorry, Teddy."

Hearing those words triggered the woman's knees to give out completely. As much as she wanted to hate him in that moment, she was grateful for Owen's swift movement of stepping forward and allowing her to fall to her knees gently. Not even a second had the chance to pass before he felt her warm tears against the bare skin of his neck, her shaking sobs muffled into his shoulder. One strong arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from melting further into the tiled floor, while his opposite hand found the back of her head and began a continuous stroking through her hair. The soft "Shh, shh, shh," that he offered did nothing to console her, as far as he could tell. Loud sobs turned into helpless whimpers, and her tears kept falling for more than twenty minutes. When the small room was completely silent, Owen went to pull away, but Teddy's grasp on his shirt kept him in place. If she needed him to, he would sit there with her all night long.

It was ten thirty when Dr. Bailey gave a light knock on the door and pushed through before either of the room's occupants gave confirmation that she could enter. "Hunt, this OR is needed for surgery. Do you think you could take this elsewhere?" He knew that she wasn't being rude or insensitive. No, she was doing her job, and she was being Miranda Bailey. Owen gave a curt nod and watched the short mother-like figure walk away before bringing the arm around Teddy's waist up to her back, and hooking his second arm in the back of her knees. He felt her arms tighten around his neck as he moved to his feet and out into the hospital hallway.

Owen didn't stop to talk to anyone, nor did he take his attention off of his immediate path as he made his way to the front doors of the hospital and straight out to his car. Unlocking the vehicle, he gently set his friend down on her feet. When he was sure that she wasn't about to crumple into a ball, he removed one hand from her body and opened the passenger door, helping her to get in. In all of the years that he had known Teddy Altman, he had never seen her so withdrawn. Her moist eyes stayed transfixed on the dash of his car as he reached across her and buckled in her seatbelt. After ensuring that she was safely out of the way, he closed the door and made his way over to the driver's side. The drive to his and Cristina's house was completely silent.

When they reached the old firehouse, Owen took the liberty of carrying the blonde from his car and through the front door. Up the stairs and into his own bedroom, where he placed her beneath the comforter and removed her shoes, tossing them onto the floor. She was fast asleep before he even turned out the lamp next to the bed. He placed a kiss to her forehead and did the only thing that he could do – left her to whatever nightmares the night would bring.

**A/N: So, reviews would be adored. If you have any suggestions/ideas, I would love to hear them. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So guys, it's been for FREAKING ever. And I'm so sorry about that. I simply wasn't inspired to write fanfiction. I've been quite busy with roleplaying and writing my novel. That's without mentioning school, home, and extracurricular activities. But, I was reading this story, and watching Grey's, and I think this is a good time to move forward. I can't promise when I'll update, but for now I'm going to try my hardest. For those of you still willing to read, I love you. For anyone not willing to continue, I still love you, and I understand. **

It had been a particularly long day for Cristina Yang when she finally left the hospital that night. It was well past two o'clock in the morning, and after searching for her husband without the success of finding him, she had decided that he could go home when he wanted to, but that she was finished for at least a few hours. He hadn't answered his cell phone, and nobody that she had asked had seen him for a while. Cristina's best guess was that he had driven Teddy home or was down in the emergency room. It didn't even matter to her that she could be missing out on a kickass surgery. She needed sleep.

Henry Burton was dead. This, of course, wouldn't have affected the surgeon in the slightest. Sure, Henry had been a good guy. She didn't have anything against him. But he had also been Teddy's husband, which meant that this affected Cristina entirely. That was without mentioning the fact that she had been the surgeon standing over him when he died, calling out the time of death to a stunned operating room. How was it that they had all known who the patient was, but she hadn't? Owen had taken a couple of seconds to briefly explain that it had been Altman's idea, and that he hadn't wanted to go along with lying to her. Cristina couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. She would have done the same thing had she been in either Teddy's or his position. But now Henry was dead, and though this usually wouldn't have been her problem, it was in this situation. Teddy was going to hate her, and the first person who had truly been able to teach her anything in a very long time, would never want to see her face again.

She was grateful for the fact that Owen and her had driven their separate vehicles to work that morning, because she desperately needed to be on her motorcycle with the wind whipping around her tonight. Anytime she wanted to ride the thing, they drove separately, because Owen, in all his manliness, refused to get on the back of the bike with her driving. He had once suggested that he would be a perfectly willing participant if she let him drive, but they both knew that there wasn't a chance of that happening.

It only took her a few minutes to arrive at the old firehouse, and she found herself wishing that the drive was longer. The cool night air was comforting. The rev of her baby beneath her was reassuring after the hell of a day that she had been through.

_**xxx**_

****As reassuring as it was to know that Teddy was sound asleep, not having to deal with the fight between breaking down and trying to stand on her own two feet, Owen couldn't bring himself to lie down. He was tired. He was more tired than he had been in a very, _very _long time, which is a lot to say for a trauma surgeon. The sleep he had acquired the night before had been easy and lengthy, too, but the day had taken too much out of him. If someone would have told him, when he awoke that morning, what the events of the day would be, he certainly would have stayed in bed. He was grateful for the fact that Derek had agreed to keep things under control at the hospital for the night, because Owen truly would have been useless with everything that was on his mind.

The last thing he had heard before leaving the hospital was that Meredith and Karev were in a helicopter headed back to the hospital, but that there had been multiple casualties when a second ambulance had collided with their own. Seattle Grace Mercy West was going to be filled with pandemonium, and he knew that he should have been there. But sometimes, other things were more important.

In green numbers on the satellite box above the television, the time was displayed, causing him to become thoroughly more aware of the fact that he wouldn't be able to avoid sleep for much longer. 12:09. How long had he been staring at a muted screen? Shaken from his trance by the unmistakable sound of the firehouse's front door opening, Owen didn't bother to turn around. He knew that the woman climbing the stairs was Cristina. Oh, shit. _Cristina. _He hadn't even mentioned that he was headed home, nor had he told her that Teddy would be staying with them. Hell, he hadn't even told Teddy that she would be staying with them. And was she even really staying with them? Or had he simply allowed her to crash in their bed for a single night? They would have to figure that out at another time.

"Owen? Are you… are you alright?" Maybe it was the silent television that caused Cristina to ask the question. Maybe it was the fact that he had disappeared from the hospital without a word. Maybe it was the fact that when they had departed each other's company, he had been in worse shape than she had been.

Silence filled the space between them as Cristina moved to sit next to her husband on the couch. The inquiry written throughout her features made it impossible for Owen not to answer her question after a considerable amount of time had passed. "No. I'm not alright. What about you? Meredith and Alex – they're good?"

"Meredith and Alex are fine, for the most part. The newborn that they went for died before the helicopter even got to them. I… I'm alright, now. I mean, I won't be when I finally talk to Teddy, but… for now I'm alright. I just want to curl up in bed and pretend this day never happened." She reached across her husband's lap to grasp his hand in her own, squeezing gently. He didn't return the gesture, but she wasn't surprised; she wasn't the only one who had been exhausted by the day's activities. They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of their slow breathing the only noise in the house. Cristina was the first to speak again, "I think I'm gonna grab a shower and head to bed." She stood from the couch, releasing the redhead's hand and moving down the hallway.

In his slight trance, Owen had completely forgotten his day, he had forgotten where he was, and he had forgotten the women who currently lay in his bed. But his wife's movement brought him back to reality. His former… _friend _was buried in their covers, in their bed, and he knew that the feisty brunette would not be impressed to find her superior there without at least some sort of forewarning. "Cristina," he whispered, loudly enough to be heard from his place on the sofa. She turned back with expectation written over her face, awaiting his explanation for interrupting her task. "Teddy, she… she's here."

With that statement, the brunette's entire disposition was transformed. "Excuse me?"

Quickly moving to stand, Owen walked around the couch and put himself between Cristina and the remaining hallway that separated her from their bedroom, and Teddy. Even before he spoke, his hands were raised in a defensive action, and his explanation didn't come out completely smooth; he stuttered as though he were lying. "I… I wasn't about to… to leave her at her apartment, alone, after the day she's had. Nobody should have to be alone after something like this."

"Owen, she's not the only one who had a rough day. I mean, Henry died, for fuck's sake. Alex and Meredith went through hell. I… I was the person who operated on her husband, and she's going to hate me for eternity. And that baby! That baby went through hell and then died, too. She isn't the only one who had it a little rough." The petite woman crossed her slender arms over her chest, cocking a hip territorially with irritation. Why was he standing in front of her?

Eyes narrowed, the redhead had to stop his jaw from dropping with absolute shock. "You… Cristina. You're not seriously going to compare those things – _your day – _to the day that Teddy has had. Her husband is dead!"

"They were barely married! He was a patient, or have you forgotten that?" She tried to walk past her husband, but his arms flew out, each hand landing flat on an opposing wall, which stopped her progress entirely. She knew better than to attempt to pass him if he wanted her to stay. He was twice her size, and held at least twice her power. She knew that he would never hurt her, intentionally, but he could stop her simply by stepping in her pathway.

His words came out in a low growl. "They were in love. Why does it matter how that happened?"

She didn't seem to hear him, but came to her own completely irrelevant revelation. "Is she… is she in _our _bed, Owen? Did you let her sleep in our bed?"

The look on his face clearly showed that he was quickly becoming exhausted with this line of questioning. "No, I made her sleep on the floor. I was on the couch, as you clearly saw. Not even sleeping. What the hell is wrong with that?"

"_Our_ bed? Our bed that we sleep in, and that we share as a couple. Our bed that we have sex in, Owen. How do you not see a problem with this?"

"I can't even believe that we're having this conversation. You know what, if this is such a big fucking deal, I'll fix it. You win, Cristina." He turned and headed for their bedroom door. He would bring Teddy home, spend the night on her couch, and hope that those actions would suffice for his wife. Just as he was about to open the door, Cristina caught him by the arm, with more of a grip than would have been necessary.

"It's fine," she hissed. "I'm going to Mere's for the night."

"Fine," was the only thing he managed.

"Fine?"

A nod. "Fine."

_**xxx**_

Teddy's eyes fluttered open to a darkened room. It wasn't her own house, which she immediately realized. The comforter was heavier than her own. The room was cooler than hers at home. The pillow smelt like a man, but not a stranger. It was a familiar smell: not of cologne exactly, but the distinctly personal scent of a man combined with undertones of aftershave and shampoo or soap. It was Owen. But what was she doing in Owen's bed? Sitting up abruptly, she was relieved to see that she was in the large bed alone, and not with the man whom she had just identified. But it was certainly his room. Even though she had never had been in the room, she recognized a few of her surroundings. The open closet door displayed a few dress shirts that she knew belonged to him, alongside the green jacket he had been wearing since before she had even moved to Seattle. On the nightstand next to her head was the watch that his mother had given him when he left for the military. And on the dresser was a picture of the redhead with her star resident, Cristina Yang.

The events of the previous day came to her in a flurry of images and lost phrases that she didn't want to remember. Her conversations with Owen, discussing lying to Cristina in order to have her do Henry's surgery. They wouldn't tell her who the patient was, and she wouldn't ask; she was a cold machine, and she would do thing exactly as Teddy would have in the operating room. Her half-hearted goodbyes and I love yous to Henry, expecting that she would be seeing him once again in just a few short hours. The operating on a woman whom she didn't even know, as she was oblivious to the fact that her husband was dead. The heart-wrenching look on Owen's face as he gave her the news, in a much more personal manner than he would have had she simply been the spouse of a patient he hadn't known. Falling to her knees and allowing him to hold her for hours, even though she wanted to hate him for not telling her as soon as time of death had been called. She knew now that she couldn't hate him; he was only doing his job as the chief, and her patient would have died on the table had he opened his mouth earlier than he had. She could even clearly remember Bailey requesting that they leave so that the operating room could be used, and the way that Owen had carried her not only to his vehicle, but straight into his room.

What was strange was that she didn't feel weird about being where she was. She didn't feel that what he had done was odd or over sensitive. It was just the way he was, a man that barely anyone ever got to know. A man who had been her best friend for longer than she could properly recall, and a man whom she had once loved with everything in her heart and soul.

The initial shock of Henry's death had worn off with her sleep. She could remember dreaming (or maybe having nightmares) many times throughout the night, but she couldn't truly remember the content of such encounters, and she didn't remember ever actually waking up throughout the night. Surely, if she had, she would have questioned her whereabouts at that time rather than just now. Lack of surprise, however, didn't mend her heart.

Henry was dead.

Henry was dead, and he wasn't about to come back. He wasn't going to pursue his newfound dream of entering the field of medicine. He wasn't going to pick up a baseball bat. He wasn't going to kiss her through a smile. He was never going to tell her that he loved her. He wasn't going to do anything, ever, because he was dead. The body that he had once inhabited was going to be placed in a coffin and buried beneath six feet of earth. She would place flowers at his tombstone, she knew, but that wouldn't bring him back.

Teddy wasn't going to cry now, though. She had cried for long enough the day before. That wasn't to say that she wouldn't cry over the loss again, she would, but she wasn't going to now. For now, she was going to drag herself out of Owen and Cristina's bed, thank the couple for their assistance, go home for a shower, and head into the hospital. Owen would want her to take some time off. Everyone would wonder why she hadn't taken some time off. But she knew that it was better for her to keep busy, to go into work, and to help others rather than sitting at home sulking.

Henry was dead.

Henry was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. She would take the time to grieve, later. She would cry at his funeral and after, but for now she needed to be functional. He wouldn't have wanted her life to come to a complete halt because of his death. That was what she was going to remember. Everything was going to be fine. This wasn't the end of her world, right?

Throwing the heavy comforter off of her slender body, her feet met with the cold floor and she headed for the door of the bedroom. In seconds she was in the more familiar living room to see that her friend was asleep on his couch. He should have brought her home. He should have at least taken his own bed. She didn't see Cristina anywhere. Maybe she hadn't come home from the hospital last night? "Owen," she whispered as she reached over the back of the couch to tap his chest. "Owen, wake up." He grunted and huffed before opening his blue eyes to look up at her through his lashes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as he sat up and tried to shake sleep from his body, mind, and voice.

"No, no. I'm just going to head home. And you have to go into the hospital in an hour, so you should probably get up too."

Confusion was written throughout each of his features. "Okay. You're sure nothing's wrong? You… I mean… things like this don't disappear. Give me a second to get ready and I'll drive you home." He was standing behind the couch with her now, looking her over with scrutiny.

The blonde shook her head with what seemed to be decision. "No, then I'll be late for work. I'm going to take a cab. Thank you, for everything. Where's Cristina?"

"Cristina, she stayed at Meredith's last night. Derek was at the hospital and Meredith had had a rough night, I guess. Never mind that, you're _not _going into work today. You're taking a few days, a week or two, maybe, off. Teddy, you're husband just died. You are in no condition to be performing surgery."

The look that he received in response to those words was one that Teddy had actually taken the time to mentally prepare. "Owen. You've done so much for me, and I can't thank you enough. But I need you to do one last thing. I need you to not worry about my ability to work. I need to work, okay? I'm going into the hospital today, and tomorrow, and the next day. I need you to be alright with that."

He was about to object but couldn't bring himself to argue with his friend in this moment. She had, after all, just lost her husband. "If you need time off, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you."

**A/N: So, next chapter something big will happen. I'd love to hear all of your feedback! Reviews make me incredibly happy (and I mean, come on guys! It only takes a second). Where do you think this should go? I have a good enough idea, but I still want to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, here's another chapter. Much sooner than the last one came along. I really like this story, and I think I know exactly the route I would like to take. That said, thank you to all who take the time to read and review! It's greatly appreciated. **

Even with having to cab herself back to her place, get ready, and make it back to the hospital, Teddy managed to beat Owen into work. When he walked up to the nurses' station to grab a patient's chart, she was standing there in her white lab coat and scrubs, flipping through a chart of her own. The nurse behind the desk seemed to be awaiting the blonde's breakdown, her eyes skeptical and her movements more hesitant than they should have been. Owen deliberately moved closer to his friend; if she needed to say something he was there. He placed the blue binder he had grabbed on the counter before him, right next to the chart Teddy was reading from. In his peripheral vision he saw that the patient she was dealing with was the same patient she had been operating on the previous evening.

There was a moment of silence between them before Owen cleared his throat softly and kept his voice just as low. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" Her voice held an air of nonchalance that the redhead immediately identified as a wall, a cover. Who did she think she was fooling? That falsity wouldn't have fooled a child, and they both knew as much.

"Teddy. Stop for a minute. Answer my question properly. You can't lie to me. How are you, really?"

She turned her head so that she was facing him straight on. Their eyes met and Owen could see that behind the exterior she was attempting to portray, she was exhausted. Just an hour ago, he remembered, she hadn't appeared so haggard. "I… I'm not okay. I'm not fine. But I need to be here, and I'm fine enough to work. Please, don't make this a big dea-"

"It is a big deal, Teddy."

Hesitation. "I know. I know. But… please. Let me deal with this the way I need to. If I need anything, I promise, I'll let you know."

The simple fact that she promised him was enough reassurance for the trauma surgeon. She had never, in all the years of their friendship, broken a promise she had made to him, and she didn't expect her to start doing so now. Whether her husband was alive or not, they were friends. "You look tired."

Any other time, she would have had a sarcastic thank you to his remark, but she answered honestly for today. "I think I'm coming down with something. Probably just a cold."

Owen nodded, not giving her words a second thought. She was able to diagnose herself without any of his assistance – that much he wouldn't question. Having been partially reassured about her emotional state, he closed his patient's chart and turned from the nurses' station. He needed to catch up with Derek to find out anything and everything that had gone on while he wasn't at the hospital. It was one of the joys of being chief. "Try to have a good day," he told his friend before he departed completely.

"I will," he heard her say, quietly enough that he knew it wasn't meant for anyone's ears.

In a few short seconds, Owen found himself waiting for the elevator in order to head up to his office, where he had a feeling he would find Derek with a miniature basketball in hand. The lift doors opened to a nearly empty space. Cristina was the only occupant. It shouldn't have been this way, but he hesitated before joining his wife. He didn't want to have to ask her how her night had gone. He didn't want her to ask him how his night had gone, or anything about Teddy. The only thought that crossed his mind when he saw the brunette was in regarding the way that she had disregarded not only the hell that Teddy had gone through the previous day, but her love for her husband, as if it was illegitimate because of the circumstances. Did she forget that their initial meeting involved him stapling his own wound, and a ball point pen? Did she forget that their first kiss had taken place after he had pulled an icicle from her body? If their relationship, their marriage, wasn't illicit, what made her think that Teddy and Henry's had been?

He pressed the button for the floor of his destination, but didn't speak. Cristina was the first to break the awkward silence. "Hi."

"Good morning."

"I… Teddy's working, and I can only assume that you're aware of that. Why wouldn't you make her take some time off? Her husband died yesterday; it's clear that she can't be in an operating room, and I honestly shouldn't have to put up with whatever mess she's become. You do realize that she's going to blame me for this, Owen? She's-"

Finally, the redhead turned to face his wife, his face emotionless. "Stop. Teddy is perfectly capable of doing anything that she says she can do. She, in fact, hasn't given me any reason to believe that she can't be a competent doctor at the moment. And you, obviously, won't be on her services for a little while."

"Excuse me? Why would I not be on her services?"

"I don't think that it would be appropriate, considering the situation. A current conflict of interest. She was the reason you were lied to, and you were the surgeon operating when her husband died. I don't think it's an suitable time for her to be your teacher, or for you to be her student."

"No, _you_ were the reason I was lied to, Owen. _You_ lied to me, not her. You could have put a stop to what was going on at any point, but you chose not to. Don't blame this on Teddy."

The elevator came to a halt at Owen's floor. He exchanged a final, unreadable look with his wife, and stepped out without another word. She didn't attempt to stop him.

**xxx **

There hadn't been anything too eventful happen while Owen was at home, which he was relieved to learn. Derek had had a long night, though; the neurosurgeon hadn't even gotten the chance to lie down. Owen told him to go home, rest, and come back tomorrow. He didn't have any surgeries scheduled for the day, anyway. Derek had inquired about Teddy, but Owen hadn't offered much. She was holding up, he told his colleague. She was going to be fine.

For a short while he had actually believed himself, but when lunch came around he found the blonde alone in the locker room, in a puddle at the foot of her locker with her head in her hands and her knees pulled up to her chest. It was only as he took a seat on the bench in front of the woman that he heard her soft whimpering. He wasn't sure if she was aware of his presence, so he stretched his leg out until the toe of his shoe was just barely touching her runner. The fact that she still didn't look up told him that she was not only aware of his presence, but that she knew exactly who her companion was. "Do you want to talk?" he asked her in a whisper.

Teddy shook her head to tell him that she didn't. His next question was, "Do you want me to bring you home?" Again, her answer was negative. Owen decided that he would try one last time. "Do you want me to leave?"

Finally her green eyes, red and swollen from crying, came up to meet with his icy blue orbs. Her intention had been to tell him that he should get back to work, and not worry about her. She, of course, would be fine. She just had something in her eye. She wasn't crying because the love of her life was dead, gone, forever. No, of course not. But when she saw the sincerity and warmth in his eyes, she realized that she needed him to stay. The thought made her stomach turn with disgust. She didn't want to need companionship. She didn't want to need friendship. And she especially did not want to need Owen to stay with her like she was a helpless child. She could see that he was patiently awaiting her answer, ready to do whatever was asked of him. "Don't leave," she finally pleaded.

The woman felt her heart sink straight down to her stomach as the redhead stood and headed for the door. She had been sure that he was at her disposal in that moment, and that he wasn't going to leave her to her own mind. It was a second before she realized that the door to the locker room had not opened, but that the lock had been switched to trap them inside alone. He wasn't leaving. She heard a locker open on the other side of the aisle she was leaning against, and then close with a soft bang. In his pressed shirt and blue tie, Owen moved back around to where she was with a water bottle and Kleenex in hand. He handed her both items before taking a seat next to her on the floor. Teddy took a generous drink of the cold liquid and gratefully wiped the streams of salty tears from her cheeks. She felt Owen's large hand dip between their bodies and remove her pager from her scrub pants before turning it off and handing it back to her.

No words were exchanged between them for a long time. Teddy couldn't be sure how long exactly, but if she had to take a guess she would have said it was more than an hour. Owen had long before turned off his own pager. Only twice had someone tried to get into the locker room, but neither of them had moved to allow them entrance. The entire situation reminded Teddy of their time back in the army. So many times, after a long day or a particularly difficult surgery, they had sat just like this. Talking wasn't important. Movement was irrelevant. The entire world seemed to disappear. This attachment and understanding had been the one thing about their time together that she had missed the most. When she moved from his side once again, the world might come crashing and shattering, but while they were there… everything could be alright. Everything was alright.

She allowed the comfortable silence to continue for a few more moments before she lifted her head from his shoulder. "You should get back to work. Someone's probably looking for you, Chief of Surgery and all. I… thank you, again. I'm alright, though."

"You're not alright. And that's fine. I might be worried if you were alright." The hint of a smile pulled at the corners of Owen's mouth as he pushed off of the lockers behind them and moved to his feet, stretching in the process. Offering Teddy a hand, he helped her to her own feet after she accepted the help.

"I know. I just… I have to be alright. I have to make it through today and tomorrow and the next, because there's no going back, right? I can't _not _be okay." She ran a hand through her long blonde locks, taking a seat on the bench but her eyes remained on Owen.

The large man was busy turning his pager back on as he spoke. "You don't have to be alright, you know. You can take some time, Teddy. You can just _be_ for a little while, and then you can try to be okay. You don't have to be some sort of superhero." When he looked up he realized that she was looking at him as if he were trying for something impossible. He wasn't, or at least he hadn't thought that he was. "What?" he asked, slightly defensively. It wasn't an actual defensiveness, though; it was a more of a playful inquiry.

"I'm pregnant, Owen. I _do_ need to be okay."

"You're… are you sure?" He moved to the bench, throwing a leg over so that he could straddle it as he sat.

Teddy turned toward him. "I was sick when I got home this morning, and I'm late, too. I took a pregnancy test. It came out positive. Then I took a second and a third. What are the chances of three tests giving a false positive? False negative, maybe, but not a false positive. I'm pregnant. And I have to do this alone."

"No. No, no, no. Don't think like that. You don't have to do this alone. I'll… I can be Uncle Owen? It'll be fine."

"I don't want it to be fine. I want my husband to be alive and to do this with me. I want him to have to run to the grocery store at one in the morning because I'm craving ramen noodles. I want him to feel this baby kick and hold this baby and wake up in the middle of the night and feed this baby. I… I can't to this alone."

Owen reached over and grasped Teddy's hand in his own. "Listen to me. I can do that. This… this isn't a bad thing. A baby is a great thing." The redhead forced a full blown smile onto his face. No, this wasn't his baby, but he wasn't about to let another child be killed by a woman he loved. His love for Teddy was, of course, vastly different from his love for Cristina, but he loved her nonetheless.

"What about Cristina?"

His answer was much too hasty, "Cristina doesn't want kids."

"I know. I know that. But, you can't just abandon her to take care of a baby that doesn't belong to you. I _know_ you would, Owen, but you can't. She's your wife."

At those words, he felt some foreign emotion that he wasn't even sure he wanted to identify. "She doesn't want kids. That doesn't mean that I don't want kids."

Teddy gave his hand a light squeeze before pulling away entirely. "This baby isn't yours."

"It doesn't have to be. Just let me help. Let me be involved. It'll be good for you, and for the baby, and for me."

**A/N: Reviews? Please? They keep me motivated ;) OH, and your ideas too?**


End file.
